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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25259836">A collection of poems and stories and how I feel.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTSL_writer_of_things/pseuds/WTSL_writer_of_things'>WTSL_writer_of_things</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>None - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M, Great Depression, Love Poems, Poetry, World War II, stories, struggles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:35:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,271</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25259836</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTSL_writer_of_things/pseuds/WTSL_writer_of_things</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>These are poems of sorts, it is how I feel. I might seem strange and your free to read and comment I don't mind nore care, This is just how I feel. <br/>Some are strange distant memories that seem vivid and not to distant and eerily familiar.<br/>Other are dreams, dreams that seem to much, and to vivid and strange.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I tend to be told I procrastinate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I love my mom, but at times she is just a mother.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I tend to procrastinate I'm told.</p><p></p><div class="">
  <p>Although I feel as if it isn't that, and instead something more.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's not that I haven't gotten to the task, it's that my mind won't let me.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I have to meany projects of writings and art that I I don't know what to do.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And then we have my cat, who needs attention too.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As well as myself, I need a bath.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The laundry needs to be done too.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I need to cook myself food, and thought the dish I wont eat again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>My comic's need a story line and plot, as well as character design and more in depth personalities for all them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I don't think have 2 comic series and some graphic novels are good.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That's just far to meany to keep track of!</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And it's true, my generals and workers are long forgotten in the snow of Russia and my little jews have been stuck in their homes hiding in shame from the public.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>My plague doctors haven't left Nottingham, but need to go to Brixton, instead they are stuck in their caravan hoping for the light of god to bring mercy on them as they hope to be in Brixton in a month.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Hell hasn't been this peaceful since it was made, that's because no one is making any conflict and instead they are home drinking their tea and coffee, listing and reading up about themselves in the papers and books. Heaven is peaceful as normal, even Gabriel is shocked by how nobody is doing a thing. Even purgatory has been slow, it's mailroom abonded as the whiskey runs lower by the day and the smoke room gets cleaned...no ones been fired, or even demoted to purgatory or hell in over two years.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>My cossacks are dead and gone, the little Russians stuck in the woods in a reached snow looking for their parents and t dth ing to find their way home.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>My goat? Oh no, he was the first one I never finished....He was little and black, with a broken horn who belonged to a witch and her crow. He never found his witch, and only found the crow.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>My strange story of him and him? Well...I don't talk about that one, to controversial and I know I'll get yelled at once again for having a jew, since those times are bad.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Those are my tells I wish to finish, but cannot find a plot or things!</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And damned be my mother, for she only goes, "It's your story, do what you please." I am! And I'll be damned to hell with all my demons before I finished them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She only likes one, my Doctors, how they are silly and happy at times, but none the others.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The hell one gets to controversial she claims, how I shouldn't poke fun at god and religion. At times she's on board for it all, other it's to dark and bad for my mental health.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I dare not speak of my three sides that came to be general in the war, no dare not say, the three are silly, unprofessional and how did they land this position and die like that! I fear her words like a deer fears sounds.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I never told her my Russians and cossacks were for a story, just claimed them to be doodles and gave a vague idea of if it were a story, she claimed them cute and to make it happy, not so dark.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The loved my goat, but then didn't like it so much, in a strange mood from being dragged into meetings at the hall again, saying to make it light hearted and nor scary or dark. The darkest thing it it was when it would fall from a hill and be treated by the witch, who is clumsy but professional.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>My him and him as I insist upon it? I've heard her words about such topics of love, and how she uses the proper terms as insults to me and others, poking fun at how gay a person can look or making assumptions about ones sexuality and gender, it's never nice and I dare not speak of it, only drawing the characters on separate pages and make it seem like one is in hell, the other my three generals, knowing full well the two soldiers share nothing in common except a love for the polish and jewish.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>We have my plans! My story, my tales! As well as my woes and how I feel.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I never could express how much I love them, my stories even if I made them up for my own entertainment during test.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But they become forgotten whenever she would say, "There no money and pay in being an artist! You need a real job, a good stable one, you'll wind up starving and homeless is that what you want!"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The words still hurt and burn my cheeks with embarrassment and dread, I just wanted to share my passion with people, share my stories in hopes of helping people find a story they will like and love.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But I rarely post my creations in fear.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In fear that she'll somehow find them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>See the positive messages and comments I'll get.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In fear of her yelling at me, about sharing my art and it getting stolen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It wont! Who would want horrible drawing in the first place?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They reached and bad.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Poorly drawn and I barley know how to do proportions.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Well that wont matter to them!"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Yes it will, and I do traditional art.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I let my hand flow over the paper and create things, and I put my name.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I assume she just, doesn't understand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Lives back in her times, or maybe not?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>We are very different after all.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I'd love to make art, comics, novels and stories! I dream of being a voice actor, I'm very good at mimicking and changing my voice.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"But those are not real jobs. Their hobbies."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A real job is working at a bookstore or library?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"No, those aren't real either."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Retail?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Perhaps."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nursing and being a lawyer? Even an IT department worker at a plant?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"There you go, those are real."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I don't want those.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I want to make art, I thrive from it and it helps me feel, helps me know who I am.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But my issues are this, how can I thrive and feel good about what I make, when I feel like I'm disappointing my mother?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's not procrastination at all, no.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's a poor environment, with very little hope of springing my characters to life.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The reasons I'm so hard on myself is because at times, she isn't that supportive, and I dare not reveal that to her, or anyone in fear of yelling.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I don't feel whole today...or normal.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I am not whole, and not normal today, everything is strange today and this week...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This isn't normal I know, but I wish to speak to things other than my mind and avoid judgmental eyes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I don't feel normal, and I don't feel whole, I am me, but at the same time a not.</p><p>I don't feel whole right now, I feel like I am not me.</p><p></p><div class="">
  <p>I am me! But, someone other than me.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I know my name, age, and body.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But I don't like it, dont like it's feel, don't like how needy it is and how you have to have a list to keep it in good conditions.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They are good, but tight now the feel of flesh and skin itself if horrible.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I want nothing more than to be drowned in a bog that way the murky waters can consume me and I'll die that way, the coolness of it as I'm stuck there for several years.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Or perhaps it's just my eyes and my mind doing this to me.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Or my demons, all of whom are dead and dying inside me, and cant make up their mind on who controls what.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I think today it's 40s girl, the one I know all to well.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's come out sometimes and go by my name, answer correctly and be a bit delayed at times.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I saw her in a photo graph, authentic and real, I felt tired and worried afterwords and started to cry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was her, yet she has no name, as she stood with a smile, by the man who started the second grate war.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I'm not sure if this is normal, and if all humans have a soul inside them, or maybe several, but I have to many and they don't want to leave me.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>All come out at different times on different days, all making me feel different and sometimes go into an accent and spell words I never thought of.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>One craves to be an actress again, she was that and craves it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The other wants war novels and is highly amused by how I can come up with scenarios that are funny.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Another was a floozy, I like her, she was a coat girl and tend to go around the place, and gets embarrassed whenever I dress like a 30s girl and my mom calls me a floozy.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>One, he is without a face, and never a name. He wore a black pinstripe suit, with gold cufflinks, he had a black fedora with a bow around it, and a tie, he also had a silver pocket watch, and pure black shoes. He had no face, just a black smoky face and hands, and he offered me tea.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He isn't a soul, not with me, he used to play games with me and ask about the train station, j have one in my town, but never knew what it was since it was closed down in the later 90s. He was always sad, I knew that much, and I remember him picking me up to comfort me. I flew temporarily.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sad li y scared me, made me scared since I didn't know him, I miss him now that he's gone, I bet he was a nice man...maybe he finally found the train and went home.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This was about me not feeling whole, and I don't, and once more I hate my skin I want it off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I want to tear it off but can't, that would be bad.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And god forbid I speak of this all, for it will be the institution I go, and I've seen them before, they are not good.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>If I told people I don't feel whole and then tell them about my souls, I would probably be diagnosed with something long and complicated maybe BPD or even Personality Disorder.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I don't think I have those! No, not at all, I don't switch between personalities and things.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I just don't like existing here, and feel like I need a different time period.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I agree with my thoughts and souls, I need a new life.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Is this normal? No it is not.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I find myself doubting it and them, they start to show in my actions and speech now, even appearance.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It's never fun.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Because sometimes I crave to wear that Victorian gown with a corset, but my mom says I would be able to bare such a corset.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I crave to own a full wardrobe of 1940s clothes, and walk around like that, or even 30s both are good. But I can't, I'll get strange looks and that hurts me so.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>So I mostly wear grudge, a nice look for me and sometimes a hat, but I'll get yelled at if I don't have it in a ponytail and pull it through the opening.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I don't want to be yelled at! I just want to be happy, live my life without wanting to scream at the top of my lungs in hopes of being heard on how I'm suffering and hating life!</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Just let me drown in a bog in the forest do the fairies can take my tormented, suffering, sad souls and leave me to find myself if I have any self.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Am I really me, do I even know what I like anymore? Or is it the souls fascination with modern times.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I'm not sure anymore, but I don't feel whole anymore and do not wish to think, but that's all I can do is think, think, think....</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I do not wish to think, and I wish to feel whole at least one later time.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A wife who is forbidden to see her lost lover.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I woke from a vivid dream about a Jewish woman and her secret lover who was also a woman. Her wife of sorts worked in the war, and the jewish woman was stuck, hiding and not knowing their reached faith.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am mentally sound I swear.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Life is dull and boring.</p><p></p><div class="">
  <p>I crave my wife in her uniform as we hide away with shutters closed tight away from the burning gaze of the judging eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>How the 40s were such a grand time, but how I wish it was different with my long little dress as I'm stuck at the camps and she away on the other side.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But I'm get to be at camp,they never guessed the cellar, never quite thought such a small space could fit anyone, let alone me...and besides the walls were dark and narrow, and I can shrink up small and make myself barely noticeable.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>How I crave her gentle touches as we March around hand in hand, smiles on our faces and proud of who we are.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That is no more, and right now well...</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It hasn't been since her file was shipped to the old adresse, her clothes there and dusty, as her mail was overflowing with letters and one was reached.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She was pronounced wounded and dead, but I know they executed her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I stayed silent, with out tears flowing down my flushed cheeks now knowing the thing I lived for is gone and I have nothing else.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I wanted death, and that is what I received, I managed to be at the perfect place at the perfect time as the loud sound blinded my ears with a shrill ring as I was no longer living.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I never knew what happened, but do tell this when you wake.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>rather short this one is...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Its 1am now its 7:05 and I still want to die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>For legal reasons take this as a joke and things.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Well its 1 am and I'm having a panic attack....I think?<br/>My chest is heavy and it keeps jumping, I feel knots in my stomache and I regret eating. <br/>My heart is heavy as are my thoughts and mind, I wish I had a guitar so I could sing and cry, but instead I have this weird poem I'm making....<br/>This will be here right on ao3 when it turns either 7am or maybe 8... <br/><br/>I never did all my assignments, nor I'm stressed and really co suffering shaving, just so I can myself.<br/>For legal reasons take that as a joke please. <br/><br/>Welllll its 1:30! And I've calmed down just a bit, I still want to cry, still want some help, still want to die, but hey now my chest feel better!<br/>I'm laying under covers, with a fan on hiding from the world, hating life and wishing my comfort characters would fucking help.... <br/><br/>But that won't do much, instead I'm just contemplating life and existence and I'd love to turn the gay heater on, take a few deep breaths, turn it off and stumble off and maybe wake up dead....<br/>Again for legal reasons that's a joke. <br/><br/>Oh how I'd love to get some help, maybe call suicide prevention, but my phone is slightly tapped by my dad. And I really dont want the whole thing of, "If your that depressed you need a mental instuition" like....no....I just want a therapist......and freedom.... <br/><br/>Oh I'm told, constantly and constantly, to be a kid as long as I can be, enjoy my years as a teenager, but here the plot twist! I had to grow up without answer to why they would fight, grow up with to much screaming and yelling, to meany people getting hurt or nearly dying...so I ask you this, how can I be normal when I really just want some income for my own things, get myself a phone, make sure it's good and use it at my pleasure since I'd own it....have a home and have a car, have a job and life from afar. <br/><br/>I dont know if you can tell, but my life is kinda shitty, I really want to die andbi can think of a few good ways, make it look like sickness, not take my medicine, get pneumonia and die of it, oh what a shame if I suddenly ODed and poison controll wasn't called in time. <br/><br/>It's 1:42 and oh how the times have changed, and god do I want to cry.<br/>I have some locks and my phone is tapped, I can freely roam on my computer yes, but I feel like that's getting locks too.....<br/>I'll be stuck with my playstation crying about how I cant talk with friends. <br/><br/>We chat through discord, and sometime tumblr, but currently thease are the banded apps.<br/>Tumblr<br/>Discord<br/>Wattpad<br/>Maybe DA??<br/>Gmail<br/>And probaly some others..... <br/><br/>I love my friends, but god I can't speak with them, and oh how my mom hates them, and how how I want to cry.... <br/><br/>I really need a break, I just need a break, yeah I know everyone loves me early, and I'd let lots of people down if I went and vanisged...never updating my stories again... <br/><br/>But HEY! If I OD! Or get off n some gas, blow the house up or catch on fire, take a few to meny pills, slit a few bits and blam it on the cat! Or just cover it up well, I'll tell y'all what, I'll make a note saying, "Bye, it's been swell." And go on about my life. <br/><br/>Its 1:45! Oh how far we've come, look at you reading my breakdown! Good for you! <br/>I'm not asking for pity points this is all just a rant, if your concered, that's okey I'll be back soon....hopefully. <br/><br/>But oh how I wish, I could get a therapist, talk with someone about my life talk about why my dad left and has been slightly detached, talk about my aunt who tried to kill her son infront of me, talk about how my dad beat the shit out of my mom, talk about the screams and fights, talk about how I need some hell, talk about how I'm bi, talk about everything and not get yelled at.... <br/><br/>Life's not bad, and mine is gold compared to others, but let me say that it's getting old and I hate it here... <br/><br/>It's 1:48 and I'm crying very openly, still under the covers in my bed. <br/><br/>Its 1:48 and I plan on staying up all night, posting this to ao3 on that one part right there....<br/>Its 1:48 and this will go to tumblr once I get my laptop up and running at 7...or 8. <br/><br/>Its 1:48 and I'm crying about my childhood trauma, and how I've been told to just go with it and it's all fine, how I'm told just to deal with it, how I'm told to just accept it, how I really need a therapist but my mom thinks thier a waste of time. <br/><br/>I just wanna talk, about how you traumatized me, about how you hurt me, about how I need help, but instead I'll cry and get yelled at for crying just becuse she doesn't like to see me upset....<br/>I wanna talk, just about how you neglected me, how you never gave mereasons, how you never explained things to me, about how you really shouldn't have had a child....<br/>I just want my dad to understand I'm broken, understand I need help, understand that I'm not over him walking out when I was 7.... why he beat my mom, why he is so detached now.... <br/><br/>Come 8am or even 9 or 10 am, I'll be my owntheist, dawn a hat and some paper. I'll get my clipboard out, act like a professional, talk with myself about myself and keep a stright face while crying...<br/>When that time comes, I'll maybe get over my trama, burn my notes in the garage, hide the eveandance and maybe feel better.<br/>I'll looking seritionan rich things, get some sunlight eat some eggs, maybe I'll feel better we can hope, we can wish. <br/><br/>You can too, but I call myself we, but you can hope to... <br/><br/>Its 1:50 and I'm having a mental breakdown, and dont know what to do..... <br/><br/>I want a doctor, I want some help, my dad hates it when I get like this and again wants the institute,<br/>While my mom just yells and gets upset with me and I really just want to talk to a real person.... <br/><br/>I would like some therapy, help me overcome my trauma, I'd like little help. <br/><br/>Its 2am and my nose is stuffy and head hurts, eyes have dried some and I'm a bit better... <br/><br/>No one will read this, and that's okey it's a vent, made public.<br/>I dont want your help, andnoh here comes the tears again.. <br/><br/>I know y'all care, and I know y'all wanna help, but please let me play adult, please let me play therapist and help myself, thisnwill go away in a week or so.<br/>Hopefully. <br/><br/>Its 2:05 and I dont know why I'm telling time or butching about my trauma but god damn am I crying. <br/><br/>It's gonna be a long night, I have until 7 or 8am to go, and the 9 or 10 for safety. <br/><br/>I really wish my mom would just listen, would find me a good doctor and let me rant, let me talk, let me get some help.<br/>I was never touched, I was never beaten, I was only neglected and never felt that loved, never felt that seen. <br/><br/>There's a reason why I love the invisible man...and it has to do with the fact he's so god damn relatable. <br/><br/>For legal reasosn all of this is a joke.<br/>It's a joke please know all this is a joke. <br/><br/>Feel like this is a shit side note and not even my comedy is helping me at this point.....<br/><br/><br/>Oh it's 2:08 and my battery is on 26% <br/>Its 2:08 and my comedy is dying, my ideas are dying, my life is melting away.... <br/><br/>Its 2:18 I took a short little break to collect my thoughts....i cried more. <br/><br/>All i wish is that you know...i could get some help, and maybe vent. <br/><br/>I've been instilled for the smallest things, like making a mess and getting yelled at. <br/><br/>I once spilled a drink, panicked and got called a retard for panicking and spilling the drink.<br/>I get called a selfish brat becuse I dont feel welcomed at my dad and step moms home, I just dont feeling belong so I stopped going and now get called a brat.<br/>I get called a lesbian, and I'm I okey with that, but they say it like an insult and it hurts... <br/><br/>Its 2:21 and I wanna wake up and cry, but im under the covers silently crying with a few sobs.<br/>My shirt is drench from all my tears, my mouth is dry and head hurts, I really need some food and drink but I think I'll pass. <br/><br/>I need some help but currently I'm playing grown up, dressing in my clothes and being on my best behavior, acting like everything si fine when really the only reason its okey nownis because I'm forcing it to be. <br/><br/>Its 2:23 and I'm tempted to get up and get a drink....<br/>And maybe do some body crimes. <br/><br/>I can't tell if I'm out of tears or just dont care, but so far no more tears! This is good. <br/><br/>I still want to die, and for legal reason this vent is a joke, for legal reason this vent is a story made up. <br/><br/>I bet this would sound like a cool mental breakdown song if I knew how to sing and play the guitar... <br/><br/>I might be able to get this on ao3 get this on my tumblr, but I'm unsure...<br/>I have to wait until 7am to get on ao3 then sneak around and get on tumblr via my computer, but last I checked, it was stopped and wouldn't work at all. <br/><br/>I'm terrified of what all my mind can do and how much I scream and fight but wind up here.<br/>This will all go away, pretty soon surely, and when it dose, I'll be back to normal and bruying it all again. <br/><br/>It's 2:27 and I wish I had a therapist, wish I had someone to talk with...wish I could cry to someone and have them listen.<br/>I only say this, becuse I'm tired of getting yelled at, getting tired of not being alowed a job or car.<br/>I wish I had one, that way I could life my life, get away from my family that acts like I'm fine then beliders me afterwards. <br/><br/>I wish I could get my mom to understand that I need some therapy, understand she need some too, understand things....<br/>I wish I could get my dad to understand I'm okey, understand I love him, understand that I need help... <br/><br/>Its 2:30 I'm crying again.... <br/><br/>I want my parents to understand they fucked me up, understand I talk with myself and try and replace thier love with fictional characters that I yearn for or friends... <br/><br/>I have friends, but my mom hates them so I'm stuck by myself with a cst and fictional characters to keep me company, and if I try had enough I can talk with them in my head and feel some love.<br/>If I concentrate hard enough I can get some peace and things. <br/><br/>If I told a therapist that, they would call me insane I bet.<br/>I just need some help. <br/><br/>I've reverted back to my childhood, wishing my dad were here, wishing my mom was mentaly sound, wishing I would be noticed and loved, wishing I had companey, wishing I was an adult already....<br/>I've reverted back to being 7 all I do is cry and cry, all I do is cry.<br/>I want my mom to hug e and tell me it's fine, hug me and tell me she's sorry for accidently neglecting me and giving me slight trauma, but instead she yells at me to stop crying and let it go, toughen up and move on... <br/><br/>I want to believe me but i don't knkw how you never help me with this!! <br/><br/>I want my dad to understand i dont forgive him for makeing me feel abonded for a year and a half, making me feel unloved and unwanted, making me feel meh.... <br/><br/>I want my parents to get that i have trauma, and i have issues to where loud sounds make me want to run.<br/>I need them to understand that just becuse i didn't go through what they went through dosen't mean i dont have issues... <br/><br/>Its 2:37 and I'll be back soon rough, might go get a drink and snack, might go get that razor....<br/>For legal reasosn that's a joke... <br/><br/>Its 3:09 and I got myself a drink.<br/>No food or razor, just a drink. <br/><br/>It is a good soda. <br/><br/>It's now 3:26, I'm tired and cannot function.<br/>My chest hurts and my heart is racing, my stomach is in knots.</p><p>I'm gonna vomit. <br/><br/>I'm gonna play grown up, play therapist and all those things. Try and get myself better, take the advice no thipsit except myself.. <br/><br/>Highly doubt it would work, but one can wish, one can hope. <br/><br/>I'm living in a fear of my life, nothing works. Nothing is okey. <br/><br/>Oh how I want to die, really I do then maybe somthing will happen. <br/>Yeah I know you love me, yeah I know I bring you joh, spark the joy in you, but you do nothing for me anymore, all is numb and dead. <br/>It's not becuse its December this has been going on and on, for some months.<br/>God I wanna fucking drown, inhale somthing, or just take some pill drink the whiskey. <br/><br/>At the same time I have comics, I want to make and create. I have animations, I have characters I want to show everyone, but half the time it's only half intrest. <br/>I can't even feel loved when I talk about things, becuse then I feel guilty, or upset. How my mom shoots me down, and how my family makes to meny drug jokes, to meny homeless jokes, and I'm always the bud of the joke........ <br/><br/>If I did art I wouldn't be homeless, or on drugs, if I did those thinsg I'd have a home and be all good. If they would listen all would be well and a-okey. <br/>If I got some real encouragement and not just, "Awww that's nice." And told some pointers, had a conversation then it would be good maybe. <br/><br/>And both how my dad, is so fed up with me about not wanting to visit. I dont feel welcomed, and I get sick everytime I visit. I'm just not ment to be there, and even then he's upset by it. <br/>I'm not the one who fucked someone and had a kid you are! <br/><br/>I just want to breath ghr air, function and live again, now I'm stuck inside myself, trying to find a voice that suits me, t dth ing to find a mask, trying to find a personality that says, "Happy in a sane way!" While I continue to talk with myself while stuck at home. <br/><br/>I hope y'all know if I disappear, I'll leave a proper note, and give better intell....for legal reasosn thags a joke.<br/>I just want everyone one to know that I love you all, but no matter the live I get from yall, or anyone it dosen't change the fact I feel like a bother and my cries for help are being over looked. I know yall care, but the people I need to don't seem that that bothered and when I'm alone today, I'll play therapist and solve my problems... <br/><br/>Its 3:37 and I'm going to bed, when I wake up I'll update this....and when I wake up I'll let yall know how my self made, self proclaimed theory with myself pretending to be someone else while talking with myself goes. <br/><br/>Its 6:52! .y mom is awake and playing music far to loud for my likeing, and I'd love some more sleep.... <br/><br/>It's now 7:02 and again music is far to loud and all I want is some sleep, and when I tried to say, "Mom...mom, can you turn it down close the door?" Nothing, not a things, waited until I left and got up fully to really relize that it was to loud.<br/>Like most things in her life, she waits until they leave to relize her faults. <br/><br/>I'll play theripy if anyone needs me, but so far I've cried and cried, off and on all thro uh gh the night until I couldn't anymore. So I believe that you all were the pretend therapist, there to sit and read or skim over my vent, which again all for legal reasons is a joke. <br/>And I a patiently, who needs so much help</p><p>Well its 7:27 and I'm so tired and hunrgy that I cant stand it...the music is still so loud, and I want to sleep....But instead I'll stay up and work, stay up and function and have a breakdown again and again.</p><p>Well its 7:28 and all I'm asking is for some rest, and seritionan...</p><p>If I vanish this is why...</p><p>For legal reasons this is all a joke.</p>
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